


Adventitious Circumstances

by twenty one tail winds (myhoneysweet)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Chaptered, College, Dorks in Love, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance, True Love, University, Waiting For Update, Will update by chapter so hang on!, age change? kinda?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhoneysweet/pseuds/twenty%20one%20tail%20winds
Summary: When Moon Taeil sees Dong Sicheng in a campus play, he quickly becomes enamored. Time, communication, friends, and circumstances will often stand in their way, leading them to wonder how much a love has to hurt until you decide either to give up, or to hold on with everything you have.





	1. Unexpected Situations

_Looking up, the half-moon covered Sicheng’s face in shadows, and the cold balled his fists. Sicheng blinked wetness from his eyes as though he was reading the sky for an answer. Breath escaped his parted lips in sharp waves, wordlessly. _

_ “It’s okay, Winwin,” Taeil said, “I know.”_

“Dong Sicheng!” An ecstatic voice rang across the cold auditorium. Sicheng alone sat on the stage, outstretched legs bundled in cream knit legwarmers to combat the November morning. The backstage filled with quiet bodies and steaming cups of coffee for the morning rehearsals, but Sicheng’s admirer seemed to prefer more abrupt beginnings.

“Ah, Nakamoto Yuta, why are you so noisy at six a.m.?” Sicheng stood up to grab Yuta’s hand, pulling him onto the stage from the front. Yuta’s wide smile defied the elasticity of human skin as he looked up at his friend.

“Don’t you know by now? Being loud helps stretch your muscles. Maybe that’s why you’re always so cranky, Sicheng.”

“Ah, whatever.” Sicheng waved his hand around. “Did you bring my shoes?”

“Shoes... Shoes... Dong Sicheng, mornings are better spent barefoot, no? I think we should all spend this rehearsal dancing without shoes.” Yuta’s voice got louder at the end of his sentence to resonate to the rest of the performers, some of who responded with whoops of agreement. Sicheng’s unwavering gaze threatened his classmate’s smile. “Okay, well, there might have been a slight problem with the shoes I borrowed. It turns out, you can’t make ballet shoes fit smaller feet no matter how much you... well... But we can get you new shoes!”

“Yuta!” Tonight, the first performance of the acting department’s experimental musical, now starring bare feet. The play relied heavily on modern dance to tell the story while still including what the director called, “singing intermissions.” An entire semester’s late nights and early mornings spent learning, practicing, preparing; but in a lapse of judgement, Sicheng had let his understudy, and friend of the last three year of college, Yuta borrow his shoes last night at the latter’s insistence. “I can’t just break in new shoes in,” he looks at his watch, “twelve hours!” But Yuta’s classic smile broke out against his friend’s misery, outstretching arms soon to be swatted away.

“Listen, I already spoke to the director for us. Turns out he thinks it’s a great idea for our daring lead to dance barefoot. Told me it’ll add to the essence of experiment he’s hoping this will have.”

“And the scouts that will be coming to the show? What will they think?”

“Sicheng, cheer up. Let this healing smile do his job! Once we start dancing you’ll forget all about it...” Sicheng sighed. A stage manager called five from a dark corner of the auditorium. The dancer pointed a lengthy index finger at Yuta and shook it few times before his arm dropped, as if the matter was some condensation easily wicked off.

“You owe me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Subtle, heeled boots clack the same as ostentatious ones._ Taeil thought about the meaning of this as his own (height-lending) shoes filled the hallway with concert. He gripped the cold handle to a practice room, expecting to find an empty piano ready for his lunchtime contemplations. He clicked his tongue wearily and shimmied his shoulders as an endearing hello to the person sitting in his seat, closing the door behind him.

“Taeyong,” Taeil elongated the name to make it sound as both a statement and an inquiry.

“Taeil, when will you admit you love me?” Taeyong playfully jumped out of the seat, walking toward his subject. His sparkly jacket shimmered as he moved, and some of the light flickered onto Taeil’s black sweater.

“I thought you were working on music theory today.” Again both statement and question. 

“With a face this cute, how could I spend my time with only a book as an audience?” Taeyong clicked his tongue, mimicking his friend. Taeil walked past his sparkling junior and began to set down his bags. “Speaking of audiences, what do you think of being in one tonight? It’s a great way to start off the end of the semester, don’t you think? Didn’t you hear about the experimental play the department’s doing? Apparently they got a lot of funding, Taeil, and only the top students were accepted into roles. What do you say?”

“Really Taeyong? Plays are a little...”

“Top students, Taeil. You know what that means? The department's cutest and most talented girls, performing on a stage for two hours. Please, please, let’s go!”

“Oh, so that’s how it is.” Taeil sat down at the piano, and Taeyong knew he was losing his battle. “Then, go, if you want.”

“Taeil, my music man, my bro, you gotta come with me! I can’t go to something like this alooone!” Taeyong swung his arms around and stumbled back and forth as though the whining took all strength out of his limbs. It made Taeil turn away from the instrument to look Taeyong dead in the eyes.

“You just want me to pay for the tickets, don’t you.” Taeyong cleared his throat and suddenly stood up straight.

“Well, I mean, as my senior, you would probably, you know, the older one usually pays, it’s all the same you know, I mean, it would help—I mean, you don’t HAVE to, but, you—”

“Fine.” Taeil crossed his arms to watch Taeyong’s reaction. He didn’t emote much himself, so he always enjoyed Taeyong’s cute performances. The two were an unexpected duo, but similar schedules for their vocal courses and music theory classes brought them together until they were inseparable campus icons.

“Wait, really?”

“Well, I don’t have anything pressing to do, and my throat’s been feeling a little sore lately anyway. I could use the break before finals.” As Taeil spoke, his head wandered to and fro, the pros and cons of stealing an evening’s work rolling back and forth in his brain while his pink lips disconnectedly announced his decision.

“Wah, thank you! Gosh,” running a hand through his hair in one motion so that landed it on the piano next to Taeil, “what will I do when you graduate and leave me behind?”

“Start to carry your own wallet, maybe.” Taeyong’s breathless laugh resounded.

“Ah, Taeil, you wound me so.” Taeil stuck his tongue out at Taeyong, who reciprocated the gesture until Taeil began to play the piano without another comment. “Okay then. Hey Taeil! I loooove you!” Taeyong spun, his jacket flipping dramatically, to leave the room. Once the door clicked, Taeil stopped playing to sigh, looking blankly before him. _Sure, boots clack the same regardless of their design._ Maybe that was why Taeyong always led him into these unexpected situations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As snow began to fall outside like stars come onto earth, Sicheng bit his nails nervously backstage. Every once and awhile Yuta would try to grab those hands in an effort to protect them, but to no avail. Stray fabric from costumes, scripts, locks of unstyled hair, and sweating bodies flew back and forth through the air. Yuta remarked it was to compensate for Sicheng’s motionlessness, and that if he breathed a little everything would be fine.

“The weather is horrible, Yuta. What if no one comes?” Sicheng pouted up at Yuta from his spot on the floor. Yuta wanted to listen seriously, but in that moment his heart just melted. He smiled, remarking on the cuteness while reaching down to poke Sicheng’s cheek. Too anxious to register the touch, Sicheng held his question in his unrelenting gaze until Yuta sighed and sat down next to his friend. “I’m serious. What if everyone decides to stay in because it’s too cold? Or the scouts can’t get here because the roads are closed? Or—”

“I know I always tell you to open up, Sichengie, but I didn’t mean like this.” Yuta had mastered the art of faking a laugh to ease the mood, and utilized it accordingly. They went over the logistics of the event together, the heavy advertisement and the own buzz they overheard on campus, and of course, the delicious team meal they would be treated to afterwards regardless of attendance, until Sicheng’s nerves had calmed and Yuta could be at peace. A simple passerby couldn’t miss the glow from Yuta’s cheeks as he admired the companion beside him. Then, a stage manager hollered from the green room.

“Audience is entering! Backstage or green room! Be on standby!” Sicheng’s face wrinkled, he groaned, and his upper body collapsed onto his lower. He started to whine in a language Yuta couldn’t understand, to which Yuta had no choice but to simply drag him inch by inch to the green room until the show would start.

Taeil watched Taeyong spin in circles in a grassy, unroofed area, enamored by the snowflakes, while he stood in line for the show tickets. The box worker had to call next a few times before Taeil had realized and stepped forward, ears red. For a school production... one look at the total for two and Taeil understood why Taeyong brought him along.

“Ya! Taeyong.” Taeil flashed a pointedly fake smile and flopped a ticket toward his friend so that the paper whistled through its short descent in the air. “Your free fare awaits.” Taeyong’s eyebrows lowered sheepishly, but his lifting lips couldn’t hide his excitement. Behind them, the doors to the auditorium clicked open uniformly. Stragglers from all directions began to rush to the entrances, Taeyong included. “No need to rush, lest your taffeta gets wrinkled,” Taeil teased.

“I think the real joke here, is your reluctance to properly accessorize, Taeil,” Taeyong retorted, striding forward.

“I _accessorize_.”

“The color black is not an accessory.”

“... Hey, the seats are assigned, so we don’t need to rush in yet.” Taeil didn’t mind sitting for long periods of time, but being close to so many people often found him restless or irritable.

Taeyong stopped abruptly, and the loose silk bomber jacket he had changed into for the event billowed in the wake of its own wind. “But what if there’s a pre-show. Besides, I want to hear your approach to how harshly you’re going to criticize these singers. Sitting down. Inside. Out of the snow.” Taeil rolled his eyes, but his heels rolled forward.

“Well first off, whose decision was it to keep the acting and music departments completely separate? Those poor Broadway wannabes are practically being set up for disaster. Now, here’s what I would do...”

Hands from unseen actors took Dong Sicheng’s in theirs for the final bows, but Sicheng’s eyes darted back and forth across an audience blotted out by stage lights. _What am I doing?_ He thought as they bowed to the left. Their arms swung back up high from momentum. _It’s not as if they’ll wear a giant neon sign, scouting for companies, ask me anything. Even if I could see them from here, _the bow to the right, _what am I thinking of doing? Suddenly impress them with a hello? God... _But even after the final bow to center, even as the lights turned off, and especially as the audience overheads warmed up to reintroduce color, Sicheng’s eyes circled in vulturous pattern searching for a sign of future.

“Wah, I wish I could keep clapping til my hands were bones!” Taeyong rambled to his quiet friend with post-show energy. “I don’t even mind that the girls who were written in weren’t that spectacular. The whole thing was just so creative, don’t you...” As he continued, Taeil had still not moved even a knuckle from the armrest of his seat, staring ever forward until the lights moved from the stage to the auditorium at large. The people around them began to shuffle up and out.

“I want to meet him.” Taeil stated, interrupting Taeyong without realizing.

“What? Who? You aren’t listening to me are you.” Taeyong slumped down in his seat to better cross his arms.

“I don’t know his name, the guy, the, dancer guy.” As if Taeyong would suddenly transform, Taeil snapped his head toward his friend. “Do they come out again?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, but I know one of the cast members. I can ask him to introduce you.” Taeil moved his head back to see Taeyong from a wider angle, incredulous.

“You _know_ one of the _cast_, but asked _me_ for a ticket?” The apples of Taeyong’s cheeks balled up into a smile so sweet, they could have been cotton candy. He reached out and pinched Taeil playfully.

“Aw, Taeil! I like it when you dote on me, how could I pass up such an opportunity? I’ll text him right now.”

Yuta ran into the green room, panting. Surprised at himself, he ran straight back out, knocked properly on the door, and then smoothly walked in as if Sicheng would be none the wiser. He nodded up as a hello, his friend gingerly wrapping an oversized scarf around his neck. Yuta looked Sicheng top to bottom as he regained breath. Upon reaching his feet, Yuta exclaimed. “Ow!” he said, empathetic.

Sicheng looked down at his toes and the balls of his feet, which were bruised, blistered, and on one toe, bleeding. The soles of his feet turned completely black from the residue of the stage.

“Next time, don’t look so pitiful when you ask me for something, so I can say no.” Sicheng instructed.

“Ha! Well, I think it turned out well.”

“What do you mean?” Yuta never said anything without meaning something else.

“Someone from your adoring audience is asking for you.” Yuta smirked, having caught his breath enough to lean coolly against the door frame. When he said this, however, Sicheng’s face lit up, his eyes suddenly wide. He threw down the beanie he was about to put on.

“Why didn’t you start with that?” Sicheng immediately got up and hobbled, wincing at every step, toward the audience seating from backstage.

Taeyong was explaining how he met Yuta From Philosophy while escorting his friend down the steps, closer to the stage. Taeil, without processing, silently nodded. Their shoes didn’t make a sound on the carpeted auditorium flooring, lending greater nuance to the feeling of walking on air that enveloped Taeil as the black stage curtain rippled from the middle to the edge, where four tan fingers curled around the fabric and slowly pulled.

It took some time for Sicheng to spot the black sweater against the black seating of the theater. He eventually found or rather felt the eyes pointed on him. They locked eyes for a few seconds. Sicheng tilted his head, curious at how neither of them looked away. The person next to the person, who was talking, finally looked over at the person, then at Sicheng, and then exclaimed.

“Ah, Dong Sicheng! Come on out!” Sicheng gripped the curtain tighter, mentally preparing a pleasant-sounding hello, before smoothly walking forward. For a few steps. Then he stopped about three feet from the end of the stage, looking anywhere but there. He cleared his throat, hoping Taeyong would say something, but for one unbearable second, no one in the triangle moved. “Hey, is Yuta coming out? Ah, I’ll just go back for him myself. Amazing performance, Sicheng,” Taeyong smacked Taeil’s back with one hand and pushed himself onto the stage with another, “Just phenomenal. Insure those feet!” Taeyong exited to backstage with a laugh and spin.

Contrary to his grace on stage, Taeil felt a soft smile returning when Sicheng awkwardly bent down, swung his feet and stumbled off the stage. He realized Sicheng was waiting for him to say something, the tall dancer biting the inside of his cheeks above Taeil.

“I’m sorry if I seem speechless. Your performance has left me.. well.. speechless.” Taeil groaned internally, bringing his right hand to the back of his neck to distract himself from the heat of his cheeks.

“Speechless in a good way, I hope.” Taeil blinked. He hadn’t expected the dancer’s voice to be so low. _If velvet was a sound—god, stop! Focus!_ Taeil thoughts ran away from him.

“I’m Moon Taeil. I mean, yeah, just call me Taeil though.” The dancer stuck out his hand.

“Dong Sicheng. Thank you for coming.” Sicheng waited until Taeil gripped his hand, and placed his other hand on top for a firm, polite shake. While Sicheng felt his back straightening, confidence gaining, Taeil prayed that his knees wouldn’t give out in the middle of the theater.

“Of course, I really wasn’t expecting much, but you’ve really prepared a performance here that...,” Taeil paused to make sure he wouldn’t say anything stupid, “That I’ll be thinking about for a long time.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear.” Sicheng thought a humble approach might make him seem more appealing, so he continued, “Everyone here in the department put a lot of effort into this performance. We didn’t want to stick to same-old same-old, you know? Lots of innovation and teamwork by everyone.” Sicheng thought the lighting crew began set-up for tomorrow, because he saw a glint flash through Taeil’s eyes. Taeil simply nodded. They both jumped when Yuta’s laughter shot out, followed by Taeyong’s clapping. They too came out from backstage.

“Ah, Yuta, you’re so fun. Taeil, are you ready to get going?” Taeil looked from Taeyong to Sicheng, and for some reason, his heartbeat accelerated. Taeil gasped and suddenly reached for his wallet. He took out a small piece of cardstock.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked Sicheng, who asked Taeyong, who asked Yuta, who grabbed one from the prop box and threw it at Sicheng. Sicheng caught it midair and coolly flipped it around to hand it to Taeil. His lips parted softly for a smile.

“I’m writing down my number,” Taeil focused on the paper, unable to look into Sicheng’s eyes for what he wanted to say, “We should meet soon, once I’m able to articulate better. Maybe coffee?” Sicheng quickly took the paper from Taeil’s hand, that he didn’t realize he had lifted up.

“I’m free Monday at 10.” For the first time today, Dong Sicheng smiled. Taeil finally allowed himself a full smile to reciprocate.

“That sounds great.” Taeil choked on his last syllable from Taeyong jumping down from the stage and partly landing on Taeil’s back.

“Thanks for the show and break a leg tomorrow! We’re off!” Taeyong gave a short, strong wave before pushing Taeil out by the arm wrapped around him, with no chance for Taeil to look back.

Sicheng winced as the sensation of pain came flooding back, and sat down on the stage. Yuta sat down next to him and rested his head on Sicheng’s shoulder.

“I thought he would be older.” Sicheng said.

“What?”

“I thought the scout would be older.”

“Oh, is that what that was? How did it go?” Yuta looked relieved.

“We’re meeting on Monday. I think.”

“You think?” Sicheng shrugged. Yuta sighed and lifted his head up. He left to grab his things, and Sicheng stayed, thinking about ways to make time turn faster.


	2. Scout's Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday at 10. Did NOT proofread this chapter so let me know if you see anything off... Beginning texts look weird on mobile so I bolded Taeil's messages for clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening:  
Angel by NCT 127  
Where You From by twlv

are u there?

** yeah, but do i order now or wait?**

save a seat n wait

read a book while u wait

u look cute when u read

** no, what if i dont see him when he walks in?**

** tyong u shudve come w me**

taeil i love u rly i do but

i dont wanna b on ur date for u

** did i come too early should i leave**

T A E I L

just stop txtin me n chill and tell me everything ltr

**wait i think hes here**

** asdfjhkjfh**

when i first met u you seemed so cool and older n

mysterious and rly this is the truth smh

After Taeil had told Taeyong what was said with Sicheng, Taeyong didn’t talk much for the rest of their evening. They had planned to study the next day, but Taeyong suddenly canceled without explanation. About an hour before Taeil left to meet Sicheng, however, he had to turn the sound off his phone to keep sane about the waves of messages coming in, full of questions and advice from his friend.

The aroma of coffee seemed to float visibly through the air. Taeil leaned back and closed his eyes to take it in. Posters from old Chinese movies decorated the walls, but their bright reds and yellows clashed with the pastel blue cushioned seating, which in turn clashed with the lo-fi music playing in the background. Taeil couldn’t blame Sicheng for not texting him much other than a confirmation and place, being a usually quiet person himself. But it left him wanting more.

A bell by the entrance rang, and Taeil heard the barista exclaim with joy. He focused on the rhythms of her speaking Mandarin to the customer that came in. Then he heard it, and lifted his head up from the back of the chair so fast he saw black in the edges of his vision. Taeil’s eyebrows tensed looking at Sicheng from afar. Sicheng finished his conversation with the barista and turned further into the room, prompting Taeil to stand up and wave. Sicheng told one last thing to the barista and walked over.

“Hello! I ordered for us, I hope you don’t mind. I know what this place does best. Please, let’s sit.” Sicheng gestured to the seats and sat himself with his hands folded like he was a video for an etiquette course. Taeil sat, but leaned forward, and told Sicheng he didn’t have to be so formal if he didn’t want to be. Sicheng laughed at himself and relaxed his shoulders, but before long he returned to a stiff back.

The first thing Sicheng had noticed when he walked in was Taeil’s hair sitting perfectly above a knit, black turtleneck. He even wore shiny, polished boots. Sicheng looked down at his own clothes. With a hoodie under a bold patterned trench coat, finished by converse with mud stains, he realized he had underdressed for the interview. Hurriedly, he had asked the barista to serve americano with their freshest coffee beans, and that he would pay when he left in case they ordered anything else. Sitting before such a posh man in his favorite café, Sicheng couldn’t help but to sit a little taller; he was equal parts trying to impress, and impressed with himself_. With a little show of confidence,_ he thought, _I have a company position in the bag. _

“So, I mean,” Taeil chuckled so that his teeth shined, which Sicheng found charming, “I hate to start with such inane questions, but,” Taeil was unsure if it was the situation, the question, or just him that made it feel so laughable, “how do you do what you do? Like, where does all that passion come from?”

“That’s not inane, you’re starting with the hard ones! Mmm..” As Sicheng started to roll his head around to think of an answer, the coffees came. The click of the mugs onto the table between them kept time with the café music, and the steam curling away distracted the both of them. Sicheng saw Taeil’s brown eyes squint. He bit his lip as Taeil took a sip of the drink to burst out in giggles after.

“Americano? That’s their specialty?” Sicheng tried not to pout.

“They use really fresh beans here, and it’s never too watery. If you don’t like it, we can order something else—”

“No, no! Americano is my favorite way to drink coffee. It’s just, well, I guess my expectations of you are overtaken once again.” They smiled at each other for a moment.

Sicheng shook his head. “But, your question. I started dancing when I was young. I didn’t get to the acting part until college. The passion... comes from the story itself.” He was so succinct and precise. _I need to clean up my speech habits,_ thought Taeil.

“So you’re a storyteller?” Sicheng nodded. “I understand that.”

Warmed up by conversations and coffee, the two started to go back and forth about art, theater, music, dance, and the like. At one point, Sicheng convinced the owner to play classical music instead, which made Taeil put his face in his hands, but happy. They finished their drinks, and the barista took the mugs without notice, the rest of the café not given another thought. Until, Taeil’s phone began to ring, a call from Taeyong. Apologizing, Taeil stepped outside to answer.

Sicheng wasn’t sure what to do to pass the time. He had to do a double take when he flipped his wrist to read his watch. An hour had passed from a more comfortable chat than he had the pleasure of participating in for a long time. He patted his hands on his thighs, read the posters around the walls, and realized, blinking rapidly, that he didn’t even know Taeil’s company, whether it was dance or acting or some other, and what he was scouting for. The entrance’s bell rang.

“Is everything alright?” Sicheng asked to be polite.

“Oh, yeah, just a call from a friend who doesn’t usually. Better to check anyway.”

“Of course. So, I had a question...”

“Yeah?”

“Well, we’ve been talking but I still don’t know... what it is that you’re scouting for.” Taeil tilted his head as if to listen better. He shifted in his seat, and his heart sped up a few beats.

“Scouting?”

“Maybe you call it something different. You did come to the show looking to recruit people for your company, right?” Sicheng spoke each word slowly and carefully. Taeil felt something from the pit of his stomach tugging his heart down so that it couldn’t beat properly. He shut his eyes tight and otherwise wrinkled his small face for a moment. He took a deep breath. It was hard for Taeil to respond, looking at the face of the man who had somehow enchanted him after a single evening and single coffee. Sicheng’s face faded more every moment Taeil didn’t speak.

“Ah, Dong Sicheng.” Taeil ran his hand through his hair until it tugged down on his neck. “I’m not even someone who usually does stuff like this, ah... Ah, Sicheng, I’m.. Well, I’m sorry for the confusion, but I’m not a company scouter. I just, agh, well, I wanted to....” He couldn’t finish. Sicheng’s face had become entirely cold, his body entirely motionless.

“I’m sorry for misunderstanding.” He said robotically. He swiftly swept up his coat, and on his way out, slapped down a twenty on the counter for the drinks without so much as a look to the barista. He stepped out the door and left without any other words or glances, leaving Taeil jaw open on the pale blue cushioned seat, his insides turning to stone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Yuta didn’t know what to do with the crumpled mess of blankets and used tissues taking up residence on his couch. It didn’t want food, or want to use the restroom, or even speak. Every once and awhile a new tissue would be thrown out from the mountain of textile, and Yuta was sure this was a precursor to volcanic eruptions. He just wasn’t sure what to do.

Sicheng had slammed open the door around noon, storming directly to every cupboard and closet he knew Yuta kept blankets in until his construction was complete, and then he collapsed.

“How did you even get in here?” Yuta spilled milk on his bare chest and kitchen floor when it happened, in the midst of preparing cereal. “The door was locked.” A brass key came flying out the blanket-mountain and hit the apartment wall. “Oh, the spare. I was wondering where that went.” Just barely discernable, Yuta heard Sicheng whine under the fabric. He sat down by where he guessed Sicheng’s feet were and tried to pat the human-shaped blob. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened, Si.” Another whine, but soon a pair of hands and eyes emerged from the comforting mass.

“thmm scnnt wmmmt rellmmm.” Yuta flicked Sicheng’s forehead. “YA!”

“Just checking.” Another humph.

“The scout wasn’t real.”

“You got scammed!” Yuta stood up as he shouted.

“No. It was my fault. I just assumed... But he just...” Sicheng hid his face again as his voice began to crack. Yuta sat back down and resumed patting.

“So, you thought you met a scout after the show but it was just a student?”

“I thought it was my time.” Sicheng’s voice was muffled by the blankets again, but audible this time. A snotty sniff was also audible. Yuta grimaced and hoped Sicheng would take the blankets home to wash himself. “I thought I was doing great. He seemed so professional. It just made sense. We spoke for more than an hour.”

“Damn. You? Speak? For an hour?”

“I know!” Sicheng began to wail, and Yuta grew frantic. As a last resort, Yuta jumped onto Sicheng’s whole body for a hug; Sicheng promptly shoved him off to the floor with a thud. Sicheng rolled off the uppermost blankets so he could properly roll his eyes at Yuta. “What are you doing? I’m in pain!”

“That’s the point. Dong Sicheng can’t cry. It hurts me.” Yuta smiled with his lips and blinked twice at the blanket monster. He lost count of how many times Sicheng had sighed, but his bear attack seemed to have worked for the moment. “That’s better, right?” Sicheng nodded. “Now that you’re sitting up, tell me who I need to go beat up.” Yuta’s face had evened out to show his sincerity. Sicheng played with the fibres of the blanket on top.

“Don’t beat anyone up.” He replied in a small voice. This time the party guilty of heavy sighing was Yuta. The only thing he hated more than seeing Sicheng upset was seeing Sicheng upset because of someone else.

“I hate to say it, but this seems to be about more than just a scout.” Sicheng brought his eyes up to meet his friend’s. It was a silent question. “You spoke with this guy, what’s his name—”

“Moon Taeil.” Sicheng abruptly corrected. Yuta turned his hands out to say _you’re proving my point, here!_

“You spoke with this Moon Taeil, whom you’ve called chic, charming, you took him to your favorite café, I mean...” Yuta flourished his hands to say _et. cetera_ and _hence_. Sicheng raised his eyebrows, telling Yuta _soo, what_? Yuta scoffed and stood up to walk around the living room table. “Soo, I mean, Sicheng!”

“What!”

“You must like him!”

“What? No.” The dancer crossed his arms and began to slowly slide back down the couch.

“It’s okay to be gay, Si.”

“What? That’s not it, Nakamoto. I’m just upset.”

“Oookayyy.” Yuta said sarcastically. “Well, I’m gonna go eat my cereal, which is soggy, now, by the way, and I’ll leave you here to wallow in your loveless misery. Oh, and wash those blankets when you’re done lamenting, please.” Yuta turned to walk back toward the kitchen, but was stopped by protest.

“No, it’s just—” Sicheng stopped when he saw Yuta turn around with a fat smile. Sicheng groaned and retreated to the blankets, realizing the answer to his own question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Taeil hadn’t returned Taeyong’s calls from Monday, nor Tuesday, nor Wednesday. He hadn’t answered anyone’s calls. He went to class late, left early, and locked himself in his favorite piano practice room for the remainder of the time. Melancholic chords played at top volume oozed through the walls, until even some of the nearby students started to bang on the adjacent walls asking Taeil to turn it down a little, please, we need to work too. More than anything, he told himself, he was simply embarrassed and determined to limit any further human interaction as much as possible. For the rest of the week, at least. For the rest of his life, if need be.

On Thursday, there were enough inches of snow on the ground to delay Taeil’s schedule. He practically ran to the piano room after music theory. After seeing what lie beyond, he tried to quickly shut the door and walk to a different room, but Taeyong was quicker and nimbler. He pulled his friend into the room and sat him down at the piano intervention style. Taeil hid his head in his arms, folded on the piano top.

“What, Tyong?”

“What, Tyong?” Taeyong’s voice raised an octave. “What, Tyong? You don’t make any contact with the outside world, me included, for four days, and you say, What, Tyong? Indeed!” Taeil patted on the piano bench without lifting his head Once Taeyong obediently sat down, Taeil explained what happened four days prior. Taeyong patiently listened to every word without interruptions, distraught at his friend’s distress. He didn’t have much to contribute to the situation other than the gee, sorrys and the gosh, that’s a really unfortunate misunderstanding.

“I want to hide until I feel like myself again. I wish... I just haven’t connected with someone like that since—”

“Bu bu bum! Don’t say his name,” Taeyong warned. “We promised.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to go to any more plays.”

“Good! You’re joking. You’ll be back at full power in no time.” A cell phone started buzzing in a bag somewhere.

“If that’s mine, can you check it for me? I don’t feel like reading right now.” Taeil stretched his fingers and started to warm up quietly on the piano while Taeyong started to fill Taeil in on his missed time. He stopped talking when he checked Taeil’s phone. By the time Taeil had finished one full song, Taeyong still hadn’t resumed verbiage. “What is it?” Taeil asked, but Taeyong just looked up from the phone to his friend. He looked concerned. Taeil pushed off from the bench and snatched the phone out of Taeyong’s hands; then, he gasped.

“It’s Sicheng.”


	3. Burning with Curiousity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The text from Sicheng!

While Taeil was frozen from surprise, Taeyong plucked the phone out of his hands and jumped onto the piano bench to keep it out of reach. Taeil immediately shouted in protest and jumped up futilely.

“Maybe. You. Shouldn’t read. This.” Taeyong’s words were broken apart by his twisting around to keep the phone up high. “You’re on your way past it. It. Hey! It was just. One. Coffee. Just after. Come on, man, you can jump better than that. Woah! It was just a play!” Taeil stopped jumping to speak to the ornate belt buckle that was eyelevel with him.

“You’re right. It was just a physical attraction for a few hours.” Taeyong hopped off the bench. He opened his mouth to declare victory, but he was one step behind. Taeil snatched his phone back. “A few hours that could’ve really turned into something. Who’s to say how long it takes to form a connection. With—”

“DON’T say it, bro!” Taeyong started to chase Taeil around the room. “It’s not worth another week of self-exile, Taeil! Come back!”

“I should at least read it!”

“FINE.” Taeyong fell and splayed his body onto the floor like a crime scene outline, stayed still for a moment, and then reached one arm out. “But let me read it first so I can prepare you.” Taeil tossed the phone between his hands a few times in deliberation, but relented. He flopped the phone into Taeyong’s hand like a playing card. To pout, he sat down hard at the piano to play suspenseful keys, and started to sing “Say Something.” Taeyong started to sing along, which Taeil permitted for a few measures, but then abruptly stopped. That didn’t stop Taeyong; the brusque boot kick to the thigh did though.

“Well?”

“Somehow, Moon Taeil, boys flock to you the way waves flock to _la lune_. He texts like a freakin’ work email though.” Taeyong slid the phone across the top of the piano and turned away, crossing his arms with one foot kicked out.

“God, you’re not kidding. Starts out with ‘Salutations.’ What.”

“Just read.” After a few more moments, “Well?”

“Well, you exaggerate, for one. He just says he wants to apologize. I guess... I shouldn’t have thought anything more of it. He seems like that kind of good guy to want to do that.”

“Well?

“Well what, Taeyong?” Taeil grew exasperated from disappointment.

“Well are you gonna go? In my opinion he should be coming to you, not the other way around.”

“There’s no reason not to.”

“Ever the mature one.” Taeyong started to walk out. Taeil followed him with his head.

“Wait, while you’re here, vocal training?” Taeil played a few keys at the end of his question.

“I’d rather not.” Taeyong already had one foot out of the door in the hallway. “I’m gonna go find a cute freshman girl to have lunch with.”

“Heartbreaker.”

“Romantic!” They stuck their tongues out at each other until the door closed with a firm click.

>>>>> 

Taeil stood outside of the auditorium under a bare oak tree whose roots started to break out of its planter. His hands were shoved as far as they could go into his pockets while his feet shifted restlessly. The dirty, possibly icy bricks of the tree planter began to look like an appealing seat when Sicheng emerged from the side door about 50 feet from Taeil. Sicheng lifted his arm weakly to wave, but thought better of the action halfway through, instead curling his fingers into a fist to shake once, and then fall. After a breath, Taeil started walking to meet him halfway.

Sicheng already felt his face heating up as if to spite the cold, seeing Taeil walk so strongly toward him. He wondered_, if I think hard enough, will Yuta be able to send me strength telepathically? _Words from the script they wrote together replayed in his mind, but when Taeil called his name, they all promptly dropped from access.

“Dong Sicheng.”

“Hello, Moon Taeil.” Taeil wasn’t smiling. Sicheng wished he didn’t want to see his smile as much as he did. Taeil pressed his lips together, and began to look around Sicheng rather than at him.

“You wanted to meet—” Taeil began his question, which broke Sicheng out of his daze.

“Have lunch with me.”

“What?” Sicheng looked stoically down when he asked, but another round of heat flushed through him when he realized he had startled the man looking up at him.

“I mean, let me buy you lunch. To make it up to you.” Taeil found he felt disappointed at this stepback. He kicked a rock on the ground.

“Ah, Dong Sicheng, that’s not necessary. It was just a miscommunication.”

“Please.” Sicheng’s voice became clearest with this single word. It gave Taeil curiosity enough to look up again. Taeil saw his full, parted lips, through which breath came in and out slowly, waiting. He saw Sicheng’s ears, pink from cold, folded to a point on one side like a sign, the thick scarf that almost reached the earlobes. He saw a face he couldn’t say no to, even if he wanted.

“Just don’t take me to a health food place and tell me their specialty is Caesar Salad.” Sicheng laughed for two beats, and then bit his lip.

“I know just the place.”

>>>>> 

Neither of the students had spoken during their walk to the restaurant; and now, sitting across from each other with a barbeque plate in the middle, Taeil wasn’t sure what to say to cut through the awkwardness. Each fiddled with his water cup until a server brought by their pork belly and set up the grill. Taeil reached out for the tongs to grill the meat, but Sicheng had too. Their fingers touched. Taeil wasn’t usually one to back down, but surprised when Sicheng didn’t immediately pull his own hand back, Taeil let go. Sicheng threw some strips onto the grill. Once an adequate sizzle played continuously, they both looked up from the meat at each other, and started to laugh.

“This... was a good idea.” Taeil nodded as he spoke.

“Thanks. Good food here.”

“Let me guess.” Taeil started, and the said the next line in unison.

“Really fresh ingredients.” They laughed again. The servers at the counter looked on wistfully.

“Ah Dong Sicheng, you are a man of quality.” Taeil meant it as a compliment, but he didn’t miss the way Sicheng’s smile faltered a moment as he finished.

“You flatter me too much.” Sicheng spoke under his breath as he flipped the pork over. Taeil stuttered.

“I, I’m sorry.” Sicheng swung his head up, eyebrows knitted together. He looked miserable.

“Don’t apologize! Ugh, Yuta, please, I’m messing this up.” He wanted to bang his head on the table; instead, he just dropped it down to his chest.

“Are... You... okay, Sicheng?” Sicheng banged his fist on the table, tongs still in hand. One vertebrae at a time, he lifted himself back upright. He knew he had to act fast.

“The truth is, Taeil,” He struggled to say the name out loud, as though it were some Latin incantation, and paused afterward. “No one... I mean, you, no I.” Sicheng set the tongs down, held his hands together, and looked at Taeil directly. Taeil could feel his toes curling in his shoes, but didn’t uncurl them. He started to gather the fabric of his pants in his fists, too. “I realized I was drawn to you in the theater that night for a reason, even if it wasn’t for scouting. I realized I was drawn to you in the café, regardless of intention. And when I realized you weren’t a scout... I was upset because... I thought it meant I wouldn’t see you again.”

Taeil’s face didn’t give Sicheng any reassurance. Taeil knew he ought to do something, drop his jaw, or smile, or anything really, but he couldn’t figure out how—all of his brainpower went to processing Sicheng’s words. They say dreams are your brain preparing ways to deal with situations in real life. If that was the case, Taeil had never dreamed of anything remotely like this.

Suddenly an arm from a third body was between them. The two men jumped, and found the server picking at the meat forgotten on the grill.

“I’m sorry, your meat burned. Usually don’t interfere, but...” They looked at the charcoal that was once sweet, sweet pork belly. “I’ll get you a new plate, free of charge.” Their eyes followed the plate as it left, and one at a time, they smacked their lips in hunger. Hearing the other, they faced each other again. Sicheng’s eyes were half closed, looking exhausted. Taeil slapped his thigh and once more fought off a fit of laughter.

“Wow.” Taeil remarked.

“Moon Taeil!” Taeil’s snickers dissipated. “I’m saying I think I like you. Don’t get distracted.” Sicheng’s mouth pouted, his torso turned slightly to the side. If the restaurant had been playing music, it was no longer audible. All that bounced off the walls was a deep voice telling Taeil, “I like you.”

“Hmm... Dong Sicheng, can I call you Winwin?”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Taeil leaned forward, resting his chin on his open palms, “You’ve won me over twice now.” Sicheng’s eyes shook before he hid them by looking at his lap. “Sure, Winwin. Ha. I want to know you more, too. But I can tell you’re unsure. How about a free trial?”

“Free trial? Sounds silly.” Sicheng mumbled, still looking down. Leaning back in his chair now, Taeil clapped his hands.

“Sure. A free trial period. Let me take you on four dates. Four days out of your schedule. If you’re still unsure... We can call it. No purchase necessary.”

“That’s a weird way of asking someone to date you.”

“Ah ah ah!” Taeil shook his finger. “It’s not dating til you’re sure.” A new plate finally came, and this time Sicheng left the cooking to Taeil, who took charge with a pep. When the first batch finished grilling, and Taeil portioned out the bits evenly, Sicheng found his voice once more.

“Okay.” Taeil grinned to himself.

“Eat up.”

“I just have one question, Taeil.” Hearing this, Taeil brought his hands to his chest and opened his eyes wide. “Does this count as the first date?”

“Ahoo, Winwin! You’re so cute!” Taeil tapped the tongs together to make the metal sing tauntingly. “We have so much in store, you and I. Just you wait.” Taeil took meat from his own portion and started to stack it on Sicheng’s rice. He bit his lip at first, but slowly, and warmly, accepted Taeil’s pieces with satisfaction.


End file.
